


I Could Never Love a Boy Who Wasn't Crazy in the Head

by Notasmuch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Triggers, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notasmuch/pseuds/Notasmuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't like having his hands pinned down, Sam doesn't know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Never Love a Boy Who Wasn't Crazy in the Head

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for people being accidentally triggered during sex. (Not for rape.)
> 
> Beta: lavendergaia @LJ

The first time Sam grabbed Dean's wrists and pinned them over his head during sex, he fell from the bed, landing face first on the floor.

Thing was, Sam liked to push, to hold down and control. He liked the sight of his own fingers wrapped around someone's wrist or neck, the trust he was given every time they let him. He liked biting and being bitten, something primitive and possessive about it pulled him over the edge every time.

And of all the lovers he's ever had, Dean was the one who gave himself most freely. He bared his neck for Sam's teeth or fingers, spread his legs wider if Sam grabbed his cock to stop him from coming, he let Sam lose all control and fuck him hard and long and all he did was moan louder and pull Sam closer and demand more.

It wasn't easy, going from brothers to lovers, for either of them, every step tentative and calculated, insecure. But they made it, bit by bit, to the understanding that it was okay to try new things. Crazy, wild, openly affectionate things like putting a hand to the other's knee while they were driving, and more subtle, gentle things, like falling asleep together, even if they didn't have sex before.

When Sam tested the lines in their sex life the same way, carefully, Dean went along for the ride enthusiastically. He always wanted more, closer, harder, to the point that Sam sometimes wondered if Dean would actually let Sam hurt him. He never said no.

Until now, that is.

"What the hell, Dean!" Sam looked up from the floor and then back down at his dick to make sure it was still whole. Then he turned to Dean and stared at him, not getting off the floor just yet in case his brother went completely crazy.

Dean sat up near the headboard and wrapped the sheet around himself, unusually modest. "I don't think that's gonna work."

Sam sat back on the ugly carpet and shook his head. "What?" _"That" could be so many things, please don't let it be us, pleasepleaseplease..._

"The holding me down thing." Dean wrapped one hand around his own wrist and Sam didn't think he was doing it consciously.

"Okay." Sam frowned. He pinned Dean down with his body all the time, it wasn't that big of a difference really. "Why not?"

Dean's lips pinched and Sam sighed, recognizing the expression. It would be a long battle. "I just don't like it."

"I..." He was too tired - and no longer turned on - to discuss it. "Okay. No holding you down. Is there anything else?"

Dean seemed to really consider it. "I don't think so."

He climbed into the bed and shoved a confused and annoyed Dean over so he could wrap his arm around him. It took a few minutes for his brother to relax, until he probably realized Sam wasn't angry and hugging was okay and he made himself more comfortable in Sam's hold and fell asleep.

Sam let his concerns drift away and followed.

\--

He forgot all about it in the next few months, except for a few times when he needed to consciously remind himself not to do it.

It was just a thing, like getting Dean pie if he went out or filling the tank if he took the car. But sometimes he forgot to buy the pie, and sometimes Dean yelled at him about an empty tank even though Sam knew better.

He was holding both their cocks in his hand, hovering over Dean as they moved together, sweaty and breathless. It was rough, they were both tired from a hunt and just needed release, and needed it now.

Sam was on the brink but just couldn't quite get there when the sight of Dean's hand grabbing the pillow over his head caught his eye. It was a sharp desire, a moment of almost need; he reached out and grabbed Dean's wrist, feeling the bones as he pressed it into the bed. The look of it pushed him over the edge, then he felt Dean freeze and pulled his hand away cursing out loud and apologizing even as he spilled on Dean's stomach.

"I'm sorry." His forehead was on Dean's shoulder and he whispered it over and over again, waiting for Dean to relax.

He felt a hand pushing him off and he let himself roll from Dean, looked him in the face and said he was sorry one more time.

"What the hell, Sam? I thought we agreed you weren't gonna do it!” Dean looked more upset that the whole thing was brought up again than angry, which somehow didn't settle Sam's concerns at all.

"I know. I know. I just forgot and..." Sam looked down, embarrassed, and saw Dean wasn't hard at all, and Sam was pretty sure he didn't come either, but he sounded as close as Sam before...

He looked back at Dean's face then, wishing he had pushed more that night because obviously it was more than just a thing, obviously he should have paid more attention to whatever it was.

Dean must have sensed the shift in the force because he was up and pulling his jeans on as soon as Sam opened his mouth. His filthy, mud stained jeans. Sam watched in fascination. There were a few things in universe as fast and determined as a Winchester avoiding an emotional conversation.

"We need food. I'll be right back." He pulled a shirt on - Sam was pretty sure it wasn't even Dean's - and ran out the door.

Sam was asleep when Dean came back, but he felt the blankets lift and then Dean's feet entwined with his.

\--

One day in a gas stop, nowhere particular, as he waited for Dean to come back with "dinner," he noticed a biker twice as wide as Sam looking after Dean.

It gave Sam some bad ideas that he didn't even want to consider before. So he made sure never to pin Dean's arms down again, but he started experimenting with everything else he could think of. Pushing beyond where he would normally go, trying to find other limits, maybe even trick Dean into talking about it.

And it wasn't like it was a hardship, lifting Dean against the wall, pushing into him, rubbing his whole body against his brother, feeling him everywhere and hearing only his grunts.

Or fucking into him slowly from behind, pressing Dean's shoulders into the mattress, teasing until he begged for Sam to _fucking fuck him dammit!_

One morning when he woke up before the sunlight with lube somewhere under his face, he even held Dean's hand as they fucked, slow and sweet and falling right back to sleep when they came, and Dean not only didn't complain, but didn't even call Sam a girl after.

Really, none of that made Sam's life particularly hard, but it didn't bring him any closer to getting Dean to talk to him about his issue either.

On the other hand, if Dean noticed a change in Sam's behavior, the way he was more careful about some things and more aggressive about others, he never said anything and Sam barely ever woke up without Dean's hand or mouth on his cock.

Then Sam bought handcuffs.

\--

He bought them when he was out getting hamburgers and beer and he noticed the store at the end of the street. They were cheap and crappy, much like the burgers, but he really only bought them to hear Dean say no.

"No."

And there it was.

"Why not?"

"For the same reason I don't want _you_ to hold them."

And then a thought occurred to Sam that really, honestly, hadn't come to his mind in all those weeks and months before. "You don't trust me."

Dean was rolling up his dirty shirt and pushing in into the duffel but stopped and looked at Sam, wide-eyed, at that. "What? No." He frowned and shook his head. "You know that's not it."

But Sam's mind was reeling and he was staring at the carpet, just saying out loud the first thing that came up. "Because if your arms are free, you can push me off."

It hurt. It hurt that after everything they've been through, after everything Sam tried to prove, Dean still didn't trust him with something as simple as that.

"Oh, like I can't push you off if my arms aren't free."

Which was maybe true. But maybe Dean just didn't want to risk it.

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to just walk away. He was the one who wanted to talk, and hey, he finally got what he wanted. _Great._

Then Dean's hands were on his face and he was being forced to look up even though he really didn't want to.

"Sam. Sammy, I just don't like it."

Dean stepped back when Sam looked up at him but he still felt too close, so Sam took a step back himself just to be able to breathe.

But Dean wouldn't have any of it and he came closer, shaking his head. "Don't be stupid." He pressed his whole body against Sam's, pushed up and kissed him, his mouth open and his tongue demanding. Sam couldn't help but give in, kiss back just as urgently.

"I trust you with my life."

The words were mumbled against Sam's lips and he needed to believe them more than anything. He tilted his head so his forehead pressed against Dean's, but their lips weren't touching. "Then why? Was it..." Sam swallowed hard and moved to look at Dean properly. "Did something happen? I mean..." He closed his eyes and his fingers twitched nervously, but he couldn't finish the sentence.

When he opened his eyes Dean was scowling in confusion. Then he seemed to understand and he shook his head quickly. "No, Sam, God, no. It's just not my thing. Can't that just be it?"

"But that's _not_ it. You got soft the last time I did it and I barely touched you. It's not something you just dislike if it affects you like that."

Dean looked away and licked his lips nervously. He stood like that for almost a minute. "It's not you."

Sam rolled his eyes because if there was one cliché they didn't need now, it was that one. But then Dean continued.

"When I'm pinned like that, when my arms can't move, I don't see you. It's every demon that ever... It's not you at all."

He turned his head sharply to the duffel on his bed and went back to shoving things in it. "So can we just drop it?" His voice was mostly annoyed and maybe even a little bored, like none of it interested him too much, but Sam noticed the hopeful glances Dean was shooting him.

He thought back to that day in the cabin, to their father, who Dean trusted more than anyone, ripping Dean apart. He thought back to all the demons that pinned Dean to the wall and threatened their lives, their whole family. He remembered the feeling, every muscle fighting an invisible bond, his own brain screaming at him to do something. The frustrating impotence.

Dean was tying up the duffel with way more force than necessary and Sam realized he never answered his question. "Yeah, okay."

His brother looked up, surprised, and Sam moved over to him. If that was the one thing that stuck with Dean after all those years of being thrown into trees, punched, shot at and tied up - though Sam doubted it was - well, that was fine with him. "It's dropped." He leaned in for a kiss and rubbed his lips against Dean's softly.

Dean smiled back, almost gratefully, and gave him a quick peck before he pushed by to get to the table. "Burgers!"

"You're unbelievable." Sam shook his head and sighed.

"I know." Dean winked and bit in.


End file.
